


The Last Morning

by Artemiseire



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: AU where trip and t'pol never broke up, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Love Confessions, Morning Sex, Quickies, Slight feels, almost, because fuck thesea re the voyages, because im incapable of doing anything without a little bit of angst in there somewhere, kind of, light fem!dom, like really light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 20:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20020651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemiseire/pseuds/Artemiseire
Summary: On their way to the signing of the United Federation of Planets treaty, T'Pol tries not to run late for her shift. Trip makes that difficult.





	The Last Morning

The alarm blared, pulling T’Pol out of another good night of sleep. Without hesitation, she sat up, ignoring the heavy arm flopping from her chest to her lap, and turned off the alarm. As she began to get out of the bed, the arm in her lap tensed, hand gripping her thigh to keep her in place.

Trip wasn’t a graceful sleeper by any definition of the term. He slept badly in the first place, often getting sidetracked by several projects before needing to be pulled away for bed. When he did manage to go to sleep, usually after some neuro-pressure, he slept like the dead.

But the two of them had work to do, their shifts beginning in less than an hour. This was an important week, as well – they were on their way to meet with members of Vulcan, Andorian, and Tellarite governments to sign a vital peacekeeping treaty. Though they were not doing their usual work of exploration and study, Archer wanted the Enterprise to run as smoothly as possible, as the flagship of this charter. At the very least, the chief engineer and second-in-command were going to need to get up and do their work.

T’Pol looked at Trip with a raised brow, only briefly considering letting him sleep before lifting his arm off of her. “Wake up,” she said, firmly, knowing what tone to use to actually break through his sleep. She nodded as he groaned, proof that he was, in fact, waking up.

She made her way around the room, getting ready for the day ahead by setting aside her own clothes, and a clean, spare uniform for Trip they kept in her quarters just in case. Grabbing two towels for them to bathe, she paused. She didn’t hear him getting up, and turned to make sure he was actually awake.

He was, but still lounging across her bed like it was his own, a small smile on his face. “Morning,” he drawled, his eyes sweeping over her.

She made no attempt to cover her nakedness. He was the reason she was naked in the first place. But she knew that look, and she knew they would get nowhere if she allowed it to continue.

“Good morning. I’ve set clothes out for you.” Gesturing to the neat stack of clothes, she stepped towards her bathroom.

“How nice of you.” His voice was closer, accompanied by a shuffling of sheets. Less than a breath later, she felt the heat of him on her back just seconds before his lips met her neck.

T’Pol marveled at his tenderness. Though kisses like this weren’t Vulcan tradition, it was quickly becoming a favorite of hers. Her previous Vulcan lovers were quick, methodical, and paid more attention to the hands, of course. They also didn’t attempt intimacy when other things needed to be done. But there he was, her human lover, nuzzling the soft skin of her neck, holding her hips with the gentlest of touches.

And they had half an hour to get ready for work.

With a sigh, she turned her head, nudging his forehead with her jaw. “We need to get dressed.”

“Do we?”

She rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t entirely at him. It was partially at herself for even considering humoring him. “We do. We are senior officers on this ship and our shifts begin in half an hour – we cannot set a bad example by showing up late and disheveled.”

Suddenly she found herself pinned to the wall, with only the towel in her hands protecting her naked flesh from the cold metal. Her entire back was covered by him, his heat seeping into her bones. The smell of him was overwhelming, a heady, musky scent that made her head swim.

Teeth teased the tip of her ear – why always the ears? – as he very nearly purred, “So you wanna go quick? I can do quick.”

His crude rutting against her backside finally tipped the scales. There was no stopping him, especially since she didn’t want to. But they had to be quick. Leaving him to his own devices could end up with the two of them in her room all day. She needed to take charge if they had any hope of not being late.

Gently shouldering him to step back enough to allow her to turn, T’Pol let the towel drop as she faced him, gripping his chest and shoulders. One of his hands went to her thigh, pulling up for access. But that wasn’t how she wanted this done. With one swift movement she had him pinned to the bed, both wrists firmly in her hands, his legs between hers.

He swore under his breath as he hit the bed, blinking up at her with wide eyes. She tilted her head as she noticed a blush creeping up his face, the deep red of his blood beneath his skin still a marvel to her, as she was still unused to the lack of green. For a moment she wondered if she’d hurt him, realizing she’d used more strength than intended against him. But the insistent throb against her thigh told her otherwise. He shifted beneath her, never breaking eye contact. His hands clenched into fists as he tried to break free. When he found the movement futile she expected him to become angry – they’d never done things this way, and his usual nature could be combative, though he’d never been combative with her when sex was involved.

To her surprise, however, he grinned. “Okay,” he croaked, the word catching in his throat.

With his consent, she slid her hips up his thighs and shifted his wrists under one hand, reaching the other down to his length. His thighs tensed at her touch, his breath becoming ragged already.

There was no time to waste, due to both their time constraints and the growing need deep in her body. Lifting herself up, she angled him just so and sank down upon him. He pressed his head back into the pillows, but kept his eyes on hers. She could feel him groan with pleasure, the sound echoing through their bond like thunder.

Letting out her own, brief and breathless sound, she ground her hips against his. He swore again, his wrists tensing beneath her hands. Finding her rhythm, she closed her eyes, still feeling his gaze on her. It still startled her how well they fit together, two completely opposing species, yet it all felt so right. So good.

He bucked his hips, one thigh nudging her backside forward, and the new angle hit T’Pol like electricity, radiating up her torso. She faltered out of her rhythm and gasped for breath before picking up speed again, trying to ignore the greed in her own thrusting.

Eyes still closed, she could hear every breath he took, and the last sounded distinctly like a laugh. Opening her eyes, she looked down at his smug grin. He must have felt her greed, and before she could react or deny it in any way, he shifted his leg once more, forcing her hips into another delicious angle. She couldn’t stop the moan that rose from her throat.

He throbbed within her at the sound, the rest of his body tensing in suit. His mouth fell open as he tried to speak, but he could only manage her name before cutting off in a loud cry, arching his back as he came inside her.

Feeling his climax slam through her physically and psychically, she was absolutely unprepared to hold back her body’s own response. Blood rushed through her eardrums, blocking out all sound but the hard rhythm of her heartbeat. Stars shattered across her eyes. She pressed a hand to his chest, gripping muscle as she tried to steady herself.

They melted together, both completely sated and spent. Trip’s breath was harsh and ragged, and he seemed somewhat stunned by the whole ordeal. T’Pol took one breath to admire the look of him, completely at her mercy, pinned beneath her hands.

Then she stood, ignoring the wet rush between her legs as she walked back to the wall and picked up her towel from the floor.

Behind her, he sighed. Somewhere in her head she heard him, _It’s just how she is, let it go and get up._

She knew her habitual coldness was off-putting on occasion, and she turned to apologize. But when she looked at the bed, he was gone, already shuffling to the bathroom, towel in hand.

Following him, she touched his arm, looking up into his sleepy eyes. “We don’t have much time left.”

He blinked, and smiled his crooked smile, turning towards the shower to get the water started. “Am I supposed to take that as an apology for no pillow talk? If so, apology accepted.” He leaned over and planted a light kiss on her forehead, the simple gesture of affection causing knots to form in her torso. “If it’s not, then why don’t we shower together, it’d be quicker.” He held his hands up submissively, adding wryly, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

She raised a brow, knowing full well that his definition of behaving differed from hers, but she didn’t argue, instead stepping into the shower beside him.

They bathed quickly in silence, mostly tending to their own cleaning, only helping each other with reaching their backs, and within a few minutes the water was off, and they were both rubbing themselves dry with towels.

She was comfortable in the silence, just feeling his presence beside her. But he was different, like most humans she’d met he loved to talk. So she wasn’t surprised when she heard the soft intake of breath before he spoke. “T’Pol, there’s something I think we need to talk about.”

When she turned to him, the air in the room went still, stifling. He looked concerned, his expression and thoughts closely guarded. It was an unexpected shift in tone, an abrupt change from his usual open smugness.

He stepped closer, reaching out to take one of her hands, she wrapped her fingers around his palm in response. “We’ve been together for…” he raised his brow, quickly calculating, “a couple years now, and I’m not even sure we’re together. I mean…” He met her eyes, somehow more vulnerable now than when he was pinned beneath her. “Do you see this as just sex? Just two coworkers who sleep together sometimes?”

She softened, gently squeezing his hand. Humans, she’d learned, needed constant reassurance of feelings, and they had never really discussed this before. “Do you see it that way?”

She knew the answer before he said it, she’d known the answer before she’d asked. He cared for her, more deeply than she’d ever expected. But if he was mentioning this in order to deny it, to cut off the emotional side of the relationship, she wanted to give him that opening. She cared for him, too, and she wanted him to be comfortable with whatever arrangement they had. If he needed out in order to find a more suitable partner, one that was as open with their emotions as he was, she would step aside and allow him to find happiness. But a dark part of her mind hoped he wouldn’t.

“No…not really.” He shuffled his feet, inching a bit closer as he pulled her hand up to hold it on his chest. Beneath her fingers his heart pounded. “I think there’s more here, there always has been, right?” He searched her face, but for what she didn’t know. “I mean…we’ve been through a lot together. But we haven’t made anything official.”

“You want to make it official?”

“I do.”

The moment hung between them, taut as a drum.

She nodded. “Then I suppose it’s official, since we both want it to be.”

His face broke into a wide, relieved grin. “You do?”

Her brow arched, and she repressed a sigh. He was wonderful, and she truly did want to be with him in a more official manner, but he could be so dense. “Didn’t I just say so?”

He shook his head, letting out a little huff of laughter. “You did, I’m sorry. I just…needed it spelled out a little for me.” His face got serious once more as he looked at her. He stepped closer, almost touching their chests together. “T’Pol, I-“

_“Archer to Commanders Tucker and T’Pol.”_

The nagging electronic effect of the intercom on Captain Archer’s voice was jarring, dragging the two of them out of their moment. T’Pol reached over and hit the button to reply.

They weren’t late, they still had a few minutes, miraculously. If Archer wanted them now, something must have happened. “T’Pol here.”

The Captain continued, _“We’ve received an urgent message from Shran. Apparently, he’s alive and he needs our help. You and Trip report to the bridge.”_

“We’re on our way.” She stepped away to grab her clothes, pulling them on one by one. “What were you saying?”

Glancing back at him she saw the picture of defeat. His jaw bunched beneath his skin, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Shaking his head, he sighed. “Never mind, it can wait.” He smiled a tight smile and joined her in dressing.

T’Pol couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something important, but she took his word that it could wait. She would ask him again later, after the business with Shran was over.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm playing fast and loose with canon but whatever, this is entirely self-indulgent. That being said, feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading :)


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